half a world away. He wasn't sorry that he hadn't gone; Ziggy represented a part of his history so distant it felt like a past-life experience and he believed he didn't owe his old friend enough to counterbalance the hassle and upset of traveling to Seattle for a funeral. But the news of his death had rekindled memories David Kerr had worked hard to submerge so deep they seldom surfaced to trouble him. They were not memories that made for comfort.
Yet when the phone rang, he reached for it without any sense of apprehension. "Dr. Kerr?" The voice was unfamiliar.
"Yes. Who's this?"
"Detective Inspector Robin Maclennan of Fife Police." He spoke slowly and distinctly, like a man who knows he's had one more drink than was wise.
David shivered involuntarily, suddenly as cold as if submerged in the North Sea once more. "And why are you calling me?" he asked, hiding behind belligerence.
"I'm a member of the cold case review team. You may have read about it in the papers?"
"That doesn't answer my question," David snapped.
"I wanted to talk to you about the circumstances of my brother's death. That would be DI Barney Maclennan."
David was taken aback, left speechless by the directness of the approach. He'd always dreaded a moment like this, but after nearly twenty-five years he'd persuaded himself it would never come.
"Are you there?" Robin said. "I said, I wanted to talk to you about?
"I heard you," David said harshly. "I have nothing to say to you. Not now, not ever. Not even if you arrest me. You people ruined my life once. I will not give you the opportunity to do it again." He slammed the phone down, his breath coming in short pants, his hands shaking. He folded his arms across his chest and hugged himself. What was going on here? He'd had no idea that Barney Maclennan had had a brother. Why had he left it so long to challenge David about that terrible afternoon? And why was he raising it now? When he'd mentioned the cold case review, David had felt sure Maclennan wanted to talk about Rosie Duff, which would have been enough of an outrage. But Barney Maclennan? Surely Fife Police hadn't decided after twenty-five years to call it murder after all?
He shivered again, staring out into the night. The twinkling lights of the Christmas trees in the houses along the street seemed a thousand eyes, staring back at him. He jumped to his feet and yanked the study curtains closed. Then he leaned against the wall, eyes shut, heart pounding. David Kerr had done his best to bury the past. He'd done everything he could to keep it from his door. Clearly, that hadn't been enough. That left only one option. The question was, did he have the nerve to take it?
Chapter 26~27
Chapter 26
The light from the study was suddenly obscured by heavy curtains. The watcher frowned. That was a break in the routine. He didn't like that. He worried over what might have provoked the change. But eventually, things went back to normal. The lights went off downstairs. He knew the pattern by now. A lamp would come on in the big bedroom at the front of the Bearsden villa, then David Kerr's wife would appear in silhouette at the window. She'd draw the heavy drapes that shut out all but the barest glimmer of light from within. Almost simultaneously, an oblong of light would shine down on the garage roof. The bathroom, he presumed. David Kerr going about his bedtime ablutions. Like Lady Macbeth, he'd never get his hands clean. About twenty minutes later, the bedroom lights would go out. Nothing else would happen tonight.
Graham Macfadyen turned the key in the ignition and drove off into the night. He was beginning to get a feel for David Kerr's life, but he wanted to know so much more. Why, for example, he hadn't done what Alex Gilbey had, and caught a plane for Seattle. That was cold. How could you not pay your respects to someone who was not only one of your oldest friends but also your partner in crime?
Unless of course there had been some sort of estrangement. People talked about thieves falling out. How much more natural it would be for murderers to do the same. It must have taken time and distance to create such a rift. There had been nothing obvious in the immediate aftermath of their crime. He knew that now, thanks to his Uncle Brian.